"Harry, I need to talk to you," Hermione says, her voice stern.

Harry looks up from his Potions book, frantically slams it closed-he knows how much Hermione hates the Half-Blood Prince- and places it on the table in front of him.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes, yes. I'm just- well, I just…" her voice trails off as she takes a seat down next to him. She scans the Gryffindor common room as if checking to make sure that the two of them are alone. Harry suddenly feels a little nervous.

"Spit it out, Hermione," Harry instructs, a hint of panic in his voice. She couldn't know! He thinks to himself. She may be the best witch in our year, but she can't read minds. And besides, I've done a foolproof job in keeping it quiet.

"Harry, are you gay?" Hermione asks, her face blistering the color of wine. Harry's jaw drops, and he swears- he absolutely swears- that his heart, if just for a moment, stops beating.

" Me?"

"Yes, you."

"Um-"

"Actually, I don't even know why I bothered asking. I already know the answer. Harry, you really are terrible at not letting others see you, erm, doing things in class," she says, giggling a little bit. "But Draco Malfoy, of all people? I have to admit, I'm a little disappointed."

Harry stands up and brushes off his robes. He doesn't know what to say, where to even begin. Finally, he sputters out: "please don't tell Ginny. Please."

Hermione, now looking much more serious, rolls her eyes and pats her hand on the now-empty chair next to her.

"You're evil. I won't tell her, but I hope you know that you're a pretty awful wanker for doing this. Now, sit back down," she commands. Harry listens. As he sits, he presses the palms of his hands into his eyes. He still doesn't know what to say, can't think of a single thing that begins to make sense.

"Harry, you've got to tell her. This isn't fair to Ginny. Does Ron know?" Hermione asks, her voice quieter, softer. Harry shakes his head. He can feel tears press and compress somewhere in the base of his throat, but he swallows them down. He's the Chosen One. He can't cry, especially not about something like this.

"Am I the only one who knows?" Hermione asks, gently placing her hand on Harry's back. Harry nods and sits back in his chair.

"Yeah. Hermione, I don't know what to do."

"Well, I'm always here for you. If you want to...talk about anything. You can open up to me."

"I don't think I'm quite ready for that."

Hermione pauses, and then-

"Draco Malfoy, Harry? Of all men? You're cheating on your beautiful, smart, kind, caring, beautiful Gryffindor girlfriend with the most heinous Slytherin of them all?" She asks, disgust suddenly cloaking her features. Harry can't help but start to smile. Now that she's said it, he finally realizes how ridiculous and incredible it all really is.

"I'd always thought I hated him, you know? Because he was so mean. Clearly. But after Sectumsempra, I… saw another side of him. He's going through so much right now. In a moment, that all became clear to me. We're different in every way. I think that's why this feels so right, so different from anything else I've had."

"Or maybe it feels different because you're with a man," Hermione says, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. Harry laughs.

"It just feels...correct. I love Ginny-I really do, swear on Merlin-but I…. I don't know."

The smile disappears from Hermione's face. She suddenly looks very cold, very stern.

"Harry, you've got to tell her. And if you're not ready to tell her, at least end the relationship. Ginny's my friend, too, and it's not fair to ask me to keep this from her."

Harry looks away, his heart pounding in his chest. Hermione's right. While it was unfair to keep something like this from his girlfriend, it was also unfair to ask her friends to keep it a secret.

"I'll tell her soon," he mumbles. "Just give me time."

Hermione sighs and runs her fingers through her frizzy brown hair, tucking a stray lock of it behind her ear.

"I trust you to do the right thing, Harry. I always have."

As she stands up and walks away, the pit inside of Harry's stomach expands, pressing against his ribs, the cage of his heart. This is all hurts much more than I expected, he thinks.

"You're beautiful. You know that, right?" Malfoy's voice is soft against Harry's ear. Shivers work their way down Harry's back, gather at the curve of his spine.

"Not as beautiful as someone else I know," Harry whispers playfully, turning his face so that his lips are centimeters away from Malfoy's. Malfoy chuckles, a smile spread wide across his face.

"Who is that someone?"

"You're a massive fucking idiot, Malfoy. Shut up and kiss me."

And so Malfoy does, presses his lips against Harry's, lets his hands wander into the other boy's wild mane.

"Remember the first time?" Harry mutters, his breath hot and heavy against Malfoy's mouth. Malfoy nods slightly and pulls Harry into his arms so that they're both facing the lake.

"Oh, Merlin, how I remember," he says into Harry's hair.

"When you passed me that note, I thought you were asking me to a duel. I spent that whole day searching up crazy spells I could use against you. Then, when I came out here, and you looked fucking glorious under the glow of the moon, and you didn't even have your wand out, I realized. And it was the greatest moment of my life. I swear," Harry mutters, his hand on Malfoy's buttocks. He traces soft circles into Malfoy's cold, clear skin. And this, he thinks, this is what happiness must feel like.

"But later I took my wand out," Malfoy says with a laugh. Harry grins.

For a moment, the two lie in complete silence. The ground is soft and wet beneath them, and the sky is an incredible indigo, and Malfoy's hands on Harry's chest have never felt more right, or real, or true.

"So, what are we going to do about the Weaselette?" Malfoy asks, breaking the silence. Harry closes his eyes.

"I don't know, Malfoy. Don't ask me those things, especially not now. I just want to enjoy tonight. Enjoy you ."

Malfoy sighs against the back of Harry's ear.

"Whatever, Potter."

As Malfoy's hand slides lower and lower down Harry's chest, every thought of Ginny and Hermione vanish from his mind. Now, it's all about Malfoy.

"Fuck me," Harry whispers, and so, under the curtain of the night, Malfoy ravages him once again. (It's about both the power and the control. And, in secret, it's also about the letting go.)

The common room isn't busy. In fact, Ginny and Harry are some of the only students still left outside of the dormitory, and they sit together in one of the armchairs, Ginny's cheek pressed against the top of Harry's head.

"You've seemed off recently, Harry," she says quietly. She reaches out and grabs one of Harry's hands in hers, brings it to her lips and softly presses them against it. Harry closes his eyes.

"I'm just...stressed. You know, being the Chosen One and all," he says in an attempt to lighten the mood. Ginny smiles and lets his hand fall back onto his lap.

"Yeah. Okay. I know."

"Thank you for being so understanding," Harry mutters earnestly. Ginny smiles at him.

"I love you," she says. And it's not like it's the first time she's said it, but it still hits Harry right in the center of his heart, splits his aorta and ventricles right in half. The wind's been knocked out of him. His throat is sealed tight.

"I love you too," he eventually replies. "Now, Ginny, I really best get to bed. I'm super tired," he says, standing up.

Ginny nods before yanking his head down to hers, crashing her lips into his. They kiss for only a few seconds, mouths moving in mechanical unison. Harry pulls away quickly before planting another, softer kiss on her cheek.

"Goodnight, my love," Ginny says.

"Goodnight," Harry replies before heading up the stairwell and climbing into bed, guilt already settling like knives under his skin.